


Encouragement

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Encouragement, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Gladio has his own way to encourage Noctis to get back on his feet after a failure.





	Encouragement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glaivenoct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glaivenoct/gifts).



“Come on, get your head out of your ass.”

Noctis felt the cuts and scrapes as he fell. He had been pushed back by Gladio’s longer reach— the edge of the training sword catching him hard in the ribs. He regretted the day he refused the training padding already, and set a precedent for every session going forward. The sword wasn’t edged, the hit wasn’t enough to do more than knock the wind out of him, leaving him with a few bruises when they took stock of the session later. It was a familiar lesson that Noctis was used to learning. 

But it still hurt in the moment. 

Gladio grabbed him to pull him back to his feet, hand fisted in his shirt as Noctis coughed. As soon as his feet were under him again, Noctis pushed his Shield aside; “Why don’t you stop trying to kill me?”

“Stop being dramatic,” but Gladio still checked him over, giving a light tap to his chest before resuming the starting stance; “You know how to get through that defence. Stop screwing around and do it.”

The training rooms were never locked unless they needed to be, unless the power they were working with needed to be contained within the dark stone and dispersed later by the King’s magic. The lights overhead were still covered and caged in a protective case, the highest points of the walls and pillars pock marked by warp training through the years. But while the rooms were meant for lighter work— the basics, the easier tricks and manoeuvres meant to be mastered between events and meetings— they were not padded. Noctis knew that it was to ensure that every combatant and trainee who crossed the marble floors would feel every fall and misstep as a lesson. 

An audience of Glaives joined them as they worked, trickled in from the locker rooms and other training halls. They stood to watch their Prince struggle with a simple training task, the low murmur resonating around them already Noctis would swear was them placing bets. He could see the familiar faces in a glance— the men and women who had worked with him on their own magic and his budding powers— watching him, critiquing every step and movement and attempt made to rush the Shield’s steady defence. Gladio caught him before he could break his footing and land a hit; a bruising grip on his arm with a free hand as they both refused to release their weapons.

“Ignore them,” Gladio scolded before he shoved Noctis back a few feet and returned to his starting position. 

Noctis wanted to ignore them. He hadn’t meant to let the soft ebb and flow of the voices break his concentration. The next attempt was a warp— Gladio knocking the weapon off its course and sending Noctis hard into one of the pillars. 

The cringe from the audience was audible. 

Gladio paused, and knelt by Noctis’ side. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis pulled himself up to a sitting position, head bowed to hide his humiliation from the audience. “I’m fine.”

He was. 

There were bruises, but he’d had worse. 

Now this was just a bruised ego that he had miscalculated a warp so spectacularly in front of the Glaives. 

Gladio moved to position himself between his Prince and the distraction, and raised a hand to tilt Noctis’ attention to him. From an outsider perspective, they were coach and student, checking for damages that could come from the force of a fall or misuse of magic. “Hey, eyes on me. Are you okay?”

Noctis nodded, his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Are we taking a break?”

“Only if you want to.”

“I… I don’t…”

Whatever hesitation Noctis was trying to give voice to was silenced by a kiss. Back still to the audience, Gladio hid the affection from the room of watchful eyes and waiting gossip. “You got this, Noct. We’ve done this a million times before.”

There was a focus, a familiar smile, a familiar touch with Gladio’s hand on the back of his head. Fingers twisted in his hair as Gladio brought their foreheads together for a brief moment. As he brought their lips together again in the chaste, quick peck that would centre Noctis in the moment. A gesture to bring his thoughts back to Gladio before him, and away from the audience waiting for the confirmation that the Prince was going to get up. 

It could have been an hour in Noctis’ mind; in reality, it was less than five minutes. 

“Right. I got this.”

The pride in Gladio’s smile was reward enough as Noctis let himself be pulled back to his feet before the gathered crowd, and returned to his starting position.


End file.
